


Not Always Smiling

by PanAndProud123



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: completed!, guys i havent watched this show in years, idea is not mine, pls bear with me, theres probably soooo many inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28087107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanAndProud123/pseuds/PanAndProud123
Summary: The story of Jerome and Jeremiah Valeska, but completely and entirely different from what you know it to be.Of course, MAJOR WARNINGS FOR ABUSE AND BLOOD. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE BY THESE TOPICS.Inspired by this post: https://victoriousvaleska.tumblr.com/post/637533201866293248/the-way-youve-written-that-so-beautifully-holyI would like to point out, this idea is in no way, shape, or form mine, I simply fleshed it out. The belongs to those who this is gifted to, who are in Tumblr. Please check out the post, there are so many other cool headcanons I didn’t include in this!!! Enjoy :)
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska (Brotherly Love)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 8





	Not Always Smiling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nameless_sovereign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nameless_sovereign/gifts), [mars_morpheus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mars_morpheus/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Jerome Valeska headcanons :)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/726690) by Uh a collection of people really. 



> I said it once and I will say it again: inspired by this post https://victoriousvaleska.tumblr.com/post/637533201866293248/the-way-youve-written-that-so-beautifully-holy

Jerome hummed to himself as he scanned the shelves of the library, looking for a book about animal biology. Horses, in particular. He glanced up at the clock and nearly froze- was it 5:30 already? Though one could say Lila Valeska had no rhythm when it came to her schedule, Jerome knew different. Sleep until ten, perform at twelve. two, and four, beat up Jerome at five-thirty, and fuck some creepy dude at seven until one in the morning. But since Jerome wasn’t at home to be his mother’s punching bag, that left her with one other option; Jeremiah, Jerome’s twin brother. He was born two minutes after the later, so Jerome liked to call himself the older brother, often as a tease. 

But now wasn’t the time to make fun; Jerome booked it home as fast as he could, earning himself a nasty glare from the librarian, praying to god his mother was a little late in her schedule for once. But as soon as he stood in front of their pathetic trailer that was supposed to be home, his mother’s snake locked in her cage at the front, he already knew from the whimpers of pain and the sound of flesh hitting flesh that it was too late. 

Jerome hesitated slightly, but he opened the trailer door and barged in. Someone had to protect his brother. His eyes fell on a bloody and beaten Jeremiah, crumpled on the floor, his glasses in a pathetic metal lump in the corner. Lila was standing over him with her fists raised, eyes unfocused and her movements indicated she was intoxicated. “Hey! Bitch!” Jerome yelled, drawing attention to himself. Lila turned towards him and, with a mighty roar, jumped towards him and gave him the same treatment as Jeremiah. 

About an hour or so later Jerome was trying to fix his brother’s glasses under the light of a lamp that was burning out. He sighed in frustration as he tried to pop the lens back inside of its thin and flimsy rims. Eventually, with gentle coaxing and some patience, he managed to get it back in. Everything else was fixed as best as Jerome could get it to be- he was practiced at fixing Jeremiah’s glasses, but he wasn’t an expert. Meanwhile, his brother was curled in his bed, sometimes moving himself around to get in a more comfortable position and only ending up in more pain. 

“Here,” Jerome whispered, giving Jeremiah his glasses. The latter took them with trembling hands. 

As he put them on he whispered shakily, “Thanks.”

Jerome sighed. “What are brothers for?” He tried for a smile, but both parties could tell it was forced. 

And as his brother slept somewhat peacefully, his bruises healing and his cuts bandaged, Jerome swore that he, no matter what, would always protect his little brother. Always. And it turned out a little better than he thought it would be- as Jerome started to dress up like his brother, screaming about how “Jerome hit me!” and whatnot, the circus members began to think about sending Jeremiah away, for his own good. In a bittersweet way, Jerome was happy. For his brother, and his hopefully better path. 

Jeremiah didn’t like it. He said he wanted Jerome to have a good life, too, sometimes getting into shouting matches with his “older” brother. About two weeks into Jerome’s new endeavor of dressing up like his brother, the latter was sitting on his bed, reading a book, but not really focusing on it. Their mother had long since passed out with one of her clowns. To the side Jerome patched up one of the many spots on his body he’d gotten from his mother beating him bloody. This time it was because he’d “pushed Jeremiah into traffic.” Jerome knew his brother like he knew his own mind, and he could tell, just from the mood in the room, something was going to happen. “It’s not fair!” Jeremiah yelled suddenly, slamming his book closed. “You never do anything and you get treated like this!”

“At least I volunteered this time,” Jerome replied, trying to crack a joke. 

He flinched as Jeremiah yelled back furiously, “It’s not the time for jokes! Your life could be in danger, she could beat you up until you die, and it’ll be all my fault, and-“ his voice cracked with emotion, throat closing up so he couldn’t speak. Thick and salty tears ran down his face and dropped onto his shirt. 

Jerome quickly wrapped his arms around his brother, trying to be a source of comfort in the dark and depressing cave that was their lives. “Shh.. it’s okay...”

Jeremiah sobbed into his twin’s shoulder, glasses pushed up his nose a little. He sniffled a bit and said, in between soft sobs, “No, it’s not.” Jerome didn’t say anything in response. What was he supposed to say? He settled on gently shushing his brother and letting his tears and snot run onto his shirt. They stayed that way for a little while, one brother crying into the other’s shoulder, the other attempting to comfort him as best as he could. 

Jerome noticed, about an hour later, Jeremiah’s sobs had stopped, and he was breathing deeply, like he was sleeping. “Miah?” Jerome whispered, as if afraid to wake him up. Nothing. “Miah?” he asked again, a little panic slipping into his voice. It was illogical, but images of his dead brother’s body began to fill Jerome’s mind. 

“Hm?” Jeremiah replied, lifting his head off of Jerome’s shoulder. He yawned. “How long have I been asleep?”

Jerome sighed in relief. “Probably a few minutes.” He watched as his twin straightened his glasses. “You okay?”

Jeremiah nodded. “Yeah.” His face turned more serious as he gently whispered, “Please be safe, Jerry. I don’t wanna lose you, either, like we lost dad...”

Jerome nodded, smiles gone. “I’ll try. Let’s sleep now, it’s late.” They got into their own beds, shivering slightly from the cold since their own blankets were shit, but managed. 

The next day Jerome had to run a few errands for his mother- groceries and shit. He looked at prices and compared them for the cheapest of each when he heard the announcement. “There is an active shooter in the area. Please stay inside, lock your doors, cover the windows, turn off the lights, and stay down while we assess the situation.” They, presumably the police, said more, but Jerome didn’t hear. Around him the shopkeepers and employees rushed to close and lock the door as well as close the blinds. Jerome looked up at the clock. It was five. 

“Shit,” he muttered, watching as the other shoppers panicked around him. He hoped they would find the shooter soon- he needed to get home. 

Ten minutes. Nothing. Jerome and the others had been sat against the walls, where they waited anxiously with the lights dimmed. 

Twenty minutes. Still nothing. Were the Gotham police this incompetent? 

Thirty minutes. Panic started setting in- was Lila beating Jeremiah this second? The question never left Jerome’s mind as he stared at the clock. 

Forty minutes. The clock was going so slow Jerome thought it was malfunctioning. 

Fifty minutes. It was 5:50, and they’d finally caught him. Everyone was allowed to leave. Some shoppers went back to collecting what they needed, but Jerome quickly booked it again, leaving behind the items he was going to purchase. They didn’t matter now, not as blood raced through Jeremiah’s veins, pounding in his ears as he ran as fast as he could towards the circus. Oh, if only he knew how to drive! Or perhaps taken a horse. Though they were mainly used for show, the horses could go hella fast when they wanted to. 

Finally, Jerome skidded into the collection of trailers that was the circus. He weaved in between them to get to his own, slamming the door open almost immediately. He was instantly confused at the sight of his mother and one of her fuck buddies passed out on the couch, smelling strongly of alcohol, which seemed to burn in Jerome’s nostrils. He closed the door behind him slowly, still confused, when his attention was diverted to the bathroom. 

Small whimpering noises were coming out of it, like someone was in pain. And when you’ve heard your own brother’s noises of pain, you never forget it. Jerome rushed to the bathroom and quickly opened it to see his twin attempting to clean up one of the twenty cuts cove ring his body, all in straight lines like they were from glass. Jeremiah froze and looked up, his glasses askew and his eyes puffy and still producing tears. “Miah...” Jerome whispered in shock. 

Jeremiah made a noise that sounded like a stifled sob. “Please help...” he whispered, sounding so small and so broken that Jerome could feel his heart begin to crack. 

Jerome gestured for Jeremiah to show him the cuts. The latter reluctantly complied. Many of them seemed to be on his hands and arms, though a few were on his lower legs, and one was dangerously close to his throat. Jeremiah hissed as though he could feel his brother’s pain. Thankfully they didn’t seem to be very deep cuts; medication and bandages would be enough. Jerome relayed this information to his brother, who nodded in response. “This is my fault,” Jerome whispered bitterly, all anger directed at himself. He took ointment, cotton balls, and bandages from the cabinet under the sink and immediately attended to Jeremiah’s wounds. 

“No, it’s not,” Jeremiah replied stubbornly yet kindly. He winced every so often, looking like he was trying to suppress the pain. 

Jerome shook his head as he bandaged one of many cuts. “Yes, it is.” 

About half an hour later Jerome had finished. They needed more ointment for sure, Jeremiah just had so many fucking cuts. The twins had gone to bed, Jeremiah so exhausted he fell asleep almost immediately. But Jerome stayed awake for hours, his mind blank and full at the same time. So many thoughts wanted his attention, but Jerome just couldn’t process any of them, he couldn’t even think properly. 

Jerome rolled over to look at his sleeping brother, whose face was framed in the pale moonlight coming from their small window. He looked peaceful at last, a look that only passed on his face in his sleep. Jerome couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought that maybe Jeremiah could be happy like this all the time. Or at least be at peace. That would be nice. 

And as Jerome rolled over on his back to stare at the metal roof of the trailer, something sparked in his mind. A singular thought stood out from the others, like Moses parting the ocean, and Jerome listened. He stood up and walked to his closet, which he shared with Jeremiah. On one side was his brother’s thing, and on the other side was his. Jerome picked a spare pair of pajamas his brother owned, took a pair of fake glasses from his own side, and slipped them on. Then he looked in a mirror and tried smoothing his hair back to make it look like Jeremiah’s. 

It was convincing enough. Jeremiah inhaled and tried to prepare himself for what he was about to do. 

“Help!” he screamed as he ran out of the trailer, looking as frantic as he could. “Help!” 

Almost instantly Mr. Cicero opened the door of his trailer, blind eyes scanning the perimeter. “Jerome? Is that you?” 

Jerome almost replied that yes, he was Jerome, but he stopped himself in time to say, “No, it’s Jeremiah.” He fake sniffed and even managed to make his eyes water a little. 

“Are you alright, Jeremiah?”

“No,” Jerome replied, downright sobbing by then. He was pretty good st acting by now, but this was by far his best. “J-J-Jerome t-tried to...” he sniffed again. “He tried to kill me.” 

By then some other members had woken up and opened their own trailers. Whispers began immediately, and those who weren’t awake before certainly were now. Except for Lila and her clown, of course. “How?” the ringleader, Haly, asked. 

“He put a-“ Jerome sobbed. “He put a knife to my throat and-“ he sniffled again. 

The aftermath was just as Jerome had hoped. He had gone back to the role of Jerome by the time his mother had woken up, and thankfully has time to explain what was happening to Jeremiah. The latter had no choice but to go with it, though he clearly didn’t want to. Lila and her clown beat up Jerome, and the shows the next day were cancelled. But other than that, things passed along just fine. 

Jerome and Jeremiah had decided to sleep in the same bed that night. As much as Lila pretended to care about her sons, she put them in the same room anyways. They were both awake, and were whispering about what had happened. “You shouldn’t have,” Jeremiah said, a tear falling down his cheek. 

“I had to.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Fine. I wanted to, then.”

“But you shouldn’t have.” 

“Miah,” Jerome said in a sharp tone. His voice got a bit gentler as he said, “What happened last night was my fault. I didn’t get here in time to help you, and you paid the price. Let me fix my mistake. 

Jeremiah shook his head. “But it wasn’t your fault,” he protested. “Just ‘cause you were late doesn’t mean I got hurt because of you. I got hurt because of her.”

Jerome was silent for a few seconds. “Miah... a few weeks ago I swore to keep you safe no matter what. Please, let me keep my promise.”

His twin’s eyes softened. “What’s the plan?”

Jerome shrugged. He tried not to let the knowledge that he, in fact, had made a plan slip through his eyes. Jerome had overheard his mother calling her brother, Zach, who Jerome hated more than anything, to pick Jeremiah up. But Jeremiah couldn’t know that, otherwise he would protest and refuse to move. “I dunno,” Jerome replied. He faked a yawn. “We should sleep.” 

He could tell Jeremiah wanted to continue the conversation, but he agreed to sleep. Jerome thought he would never be able to fall asleep from anticipation and his overall anxiety, but with everything he’d gone through that day, he was absolutely exhausted. He soon fell asleep and only woke up to hear someone whispering his name as loudly as they could. “Jerome. Jerome!” Zachary’s voice hissed. He sighed. “We have to leave without him.”

“We can’t!” Jeremiah protested, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. He let out a soft sob. “Please, Jerry, wake up! Please, please, please...” Jerome stayed lying still, wishing he could join his brother, but knowing it was best for Jeremiah if he didn’t. Tears started to fall from his eyes, Jerome suppressing sobs. 

“Jeremiah, we have to leave. Now,” Zachary insisted. 

Jeremiah started to cry even harder. “But he’s m-my brother, we c-can’t just le-leave him here!” Jerome wanted to yell at Jeremiah to leave, to live a better life where he could finally be happy, but he couldn’t. 

Jerome could hear Zachary insisting they had to leave, and eventually, Jeremiah gave in. He called his brother’s name once more, then reluctantly left. Jerome was torn between being happy and absolutely devastated. He was happy his brother was finally going to have a better life, but he would never get to see him again. Well, maybe he would. You never knew with life. Jerome waited for the trailer door to close before he curled himself into a ball and started to sob like a maniac. 

He tried to let the part of himself that was happy for Jeremiah win, tried to stay positive, but how can you stay positive when the only person you really love is gone? How can you go on stumbling in the dark when the only light you have is faded away, when the only cards you have left in your deck are jokers? 

Jokers. Jerome was always the joker of the two, he always had a funny joke to make Jeremiah laugh. But at that moment, as he laid in bed and cried his heart out, laughing was the last thing he wanted to do. 


End file.
